#i'm not as inspired by all of the prompts so I am doing them sort of piecemeal

[big-girls-forever]

Kinktober 9: CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE

Massively Milky 🥛 / Euphoria 💖 (Using the Kinktober by wonderful @fatguarddog)

Length: 2673 words

Tags: lactation, lesbians, belly expansion, bloating, weight gain, rapid weight gain, hot ladies in pencil skirts, inexplicable levels of lactation, some mild intox

Hannah was just finishing up the mopping in the first public bathroom when she heard a loud yelp of pain from the other one. Hannah thought this was a bit unusual. She’d been a janitor for this building for a good long while, before the new company even moved in. Working the night shift and cleaning up was honestly a lot more relaxing than it was with the previous corporation that used the place as an office. The new folks - VitaTech - had cordoned off a few areas as “laboratory sections” which she didn’t have access to and didn’t have to clean, which meant less work for her for better pay. Occasionally, someone would stay after hours to finish up some paperwork, but hearing a sudden and pained yell from a bathroom was certainly new. She moved her cart with a little more haste than normal.

When she walked in, she saw a woman standing at the far end of the line of sinks. She was a petite, short girl in classic office lady attire: a pencil skirt and a white button-up. The button-up had been messed with slightly. Her collar was off and a few of the top buttons had been undone. She turned to look at Hannah while speaking on the phone.

“Ugh, listen,” she said, “I’ll- you don’t have to come back in. I’ll figure it out. Get an Uber or something. It’s my fault really. Yeah. See you tomorrow. Yeah, I’m putting it in the report. Bye.” 

The office lady sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Hannah, “I’ll be out of your way.”

Her face looked red and flushed, and she was sweating. Hannah gave her a smile of concern.

“You sure? You sounded like you were hurt there, and… you don’t look like you’re doing so hot, if I’m being honest. You can stay as long as you need, I’ve got the whole night to clean up.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” said the woman. She started to fix her collar in the mirror. “Oh, yeah, I guess I am kinda sweating a lot.” 

Hannah leaned on her cart.

“If I can ask… what’s the matter?”

“You know what they do here… it’s embarrassing, and it’s painful.”

“Ah, geez,” said Hannah. She knew that VitaTech were some sort of biotech company, but wasn’t exactly sure how that related to this poor girl’s issue. Maybe she had to do some heavy lifting in the lab? It was hard to say. She didn’t look like a person who had done much physical labor. Still, Hannah wasn’t really a woman to leave a girl in need.

“Hey,” she said, “If you need a lift to the pharmacy or whatever, I can totally give it.”

“It’s not really a pharmacy problem,” she said. She winced slightly as she moved.

“Hospital?”

“I don’t want the bill,” she said, “I just… sometimes working for this company is sort of ridiculous, okay? I don’t want to involve you if you aren’t down with it, it’s really like… weird to talk about.”

Hannah grinned lightly.

“What’s your name?”

“Cassie.”

“Cassie, I’ve spent the last three years cleaning up the vomit of middle-aged businessmen who liked to day drink. Seriously, you’d think you were watching Mad Men with how much liquor the guys in here were putting away before VitaTech came in. Whatever it is, I promise I won’t be fazed by it.” 

This made the woman laugh a little.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Fine,” she said, “If you’re really so curious, the problem is… I’m an accountant, but I’m also a tester for VitaTech. Whenever they’re workshopping a new product, it usually goes through someone like me first.”

“So, you like, have a condition or something?” Asked Hannah, “I mean, I know they make some kind of drugs here, I’ve seen the warning signs on the labs.”

“No, no,” she said, “The drugs they make are mostly recreational. At least I think.”

Hannah squinted at the sweating, ruddy-faced woman in front of her.

“Like MDMA?”

“No, let me get to it. They were… how do I put this. They’re testing a drug that’s supposed to induce lactation, and I quote ‘above and beyond the normal capacity for a human.’ Which is, the, uh, problem. Because they’ve yet to figure out the quirk where a user needs some degree of suction to get the milk out.”

“What?” 

“And today I was super busy trying to handle the accounts because apparently we had an incident over at one of the subsidiaries - a happy accident really, it seems like we actually made a customer for life but still some stuff had to be handled involving minor costs and I had to work with some people on that. You know how it is. Anyways my point being that I was so busy that I totally forgot to go to the milking machine today.”

“What?” Repeated Hannah, still trying to process the first parts of what she had said. There was a very long and awkward silence.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird,” said Hannah, “And kinda painful. Because they’re so tender.” 

“You just said that you have so much milk in your breasts that it hurts because you’re an under the table-”

“I’m salaried.”

“A salaried test subject for lactation drugs. For recreational purposes.” 

“Yep.”

There was a long, long silence as Hannah stared at Cassie, and Cassie stared at her, and as they stared longer and longer there was silently an acknowledgement of mutual attraction that made the scenario only more awkward. She was a pretty brunette, she was well-dressed, and she was talkative in a way that made Hannah want to smile. Now, she had informed her that it was in fact medically necessary for her nipples to be suckled because her breasts were so sore from being so full of milk. Though she had not known, Hannah suddenly felt as though her whole romantic life, from the crush she had on her art teacher in grade school to her disastrous attempts at wooing college girls to now, had been preparing her for the occasion when a cute femme absolutely needed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to have her nipples sucked. The only remaining question was whether Cassie was thinking along the same lines, and how to approach it.

“So,” said Cassie first, “I guess I’m gonna be calling that Uber…”

“Uh,” said Hannah, “Well, I don’t have the keys for the labs, but, maybe we could figure something out to get you out of here without you being in pain.”

Cassie seemed to look down at Hannah’s nametag.

“Hannah - you’re Hannah, right?”

“Right.”

“I know what you’re thinking. They’re still trying to test if this stuff is just regular milk still. And also I have no idea how much is in there right now.”

The silence continued for a while, then Cassie sighed.

“But, if you insist, then…”

Cassie leaned up against the wall and slowly, and began to unbutton her shirt, revealing what looked like a slightly modified maternity bra. Hannah stepped forward slowly as she reached for the hooks on the bra.

“Oh, come on, I’m a woman, not a raccoon,” she said, “I’m not going to run away if you make a sudden move.” 

Hannah laughed and walked the rest of the way to her, and helped her unhook her bra. Sure enough, her breasts were small, but as she moved they looked almost stiff with how full and engorged they were. Her areolae were wide and brown as if she were pregnant, and they were spotted with little white dots of milk. Cassie then sat herself down on the floor with another slight yelp. Hannah followed her.

“Do you have any idea how dirty these floors get?” Asked Hannah.

 “No,” she said, “But I trust your work from last night. Now, get to work. And remember, no teeth.”

Hannah smiled and gently put her head to the girl’s chest, and then took her lips to a tit. At even a slight suction, milk began to spurt into her mouth, like a soda can that you shook before opening it. Hannah grunted in surprise and swallowed but didn’t let up; she was sure that at this rate she’d be dry in no time. Cassie sucked in some air, a noise somewhere between pain and arousal, and took one of her hands to Hannah’s head and brushed her fingers through her hair, then pushed her harder into her breast. 

“Keep sucking,” she said, “Harder.”

Hannah of course obliged and kept to her work. Cassie’s milk was surprisingly sweet and rich. She had known that it would be different from the sort that you got at the store, of course, but even with that this was extremely abnormal. So she kept on suckling, and suckling and suckling on her nipple. Cassie was mostly silent except for an occasional muffled moan or deep breath in, though she kept her hand firmly on Hannah’s head so that she couldn’t stop drinking. 

Not that she would want to stop. As she drank, she felt increasingly warm and bloated and yet there was no sign of Cassie’s milk stopping. In fact, she could feel herself getting a heavier belly with each passing moment from the sheer mass of milk that she was swallowing, which felt plainly impossible. Faintly, she became aware of the sound of the zipper on her uniform slowly pushing itself downward from the growing size of her own gut. Hannah felt like she should have been a little distressed by that, but she felt so warm and happy from all the milk that it was a little hard for her to feel anything other than nice. The feeling was almost like being drunk, if only a little milder. 

Eventually, slowly, she felt the milk coming from Cassie’s tit slow down and then practically stop. When she pulled away and looked down, she was astonished to see how bloated her belly was. Her uniform had pulled down to the point where she could see the white tee-shirt that she was wearing underneath, and her gut was so full that it looked like she was six months pregnant. Cassie seemed entirely undisturbed by this. She reached up and grabbed her handbag from the place where she left it on the sinks, and then pulled out her phone. 

“Might as well get some work done,” she said, “Are you feeling alright?”

“I feel great,” Hannah said woozily, “Oh wow. This, uh milk. Kinda making me like… a mix of horny and… happy? Like drunk happy. Couple of beers happy.”

“Ooh, that’s new,” said Cassie, “Your belly doesn’t hurt or anything?”

Hannah shook her head.

“Feels great!”

“Okay, I’m putting down elasticity and some mild intoxicatory effects in the notes… there. Done.” 

She put her phone back away, and then looked at Hannah again.

“Do you think you’re done? I’ve got two tits, Hannah.”

“Oh, yeah!” Said Hannah eagerly, “Your milk is also really tast-”

Her compliments were cut off by Cassie pushing Hannah’s head into her other tit. Almost automatically her lips latched onto her nipple and began to suck. She felt increasingly adoring of Cassie and her tits that were giving her so much to drink. Her head felt like it was floating and she felt a shock through her body every time Cassie moaned again. Increasingly, the moans went away from pain and towards a pure and animal arousal. 

“Good girl,” said Cassie, “Good, good, keep at it.” 

Now whatever effect the milk was having on her was truly hitting her. Her urge to giggle was only overwhelmed by her ever-growing love of sucking on tits, and of Cassie. She felt like she was floating even as she felt that her gut was getting heavier and heavier, and getting perilously close to the ground. The zipper on her jumpsuit was almost certainly reaching the bottom now, and she could feel the cool air on her belly as her shirt rode up over her bloated belly. And then, just as with the first one, she ran out of milk to drink. This time, Cassie had to gently dislodge her from her breast. Hannah flopped backwards and rested on the back wall, giggling and sighing.

“Hahaha,” she said, “No more milk! Job done!”

“Thank you very much,” said Cassie, “Are you… alright?” 

“Oh I’m fine,” she said, slurring her words, “Super. Oh my God. Do you see my belly?”

“Yeeeep,” said Cassie, “They did say one of the side-effects could be pressurized lactation. Looks like you got the brunt of it.” 

Hannah tried to touch her tender, full belly and groaned. It sloshed slightly with milk as she moved it. 

“Aw, man, this is so much,” she said, “I guess it’s good that I’m bulking. Oh well, time to finish my… rounds and stuff.” 

She tried to stand and almost immediately fell off balance, barely able to keep herself from falling over. Cassie caught her and helped her up, smiling gently.

“Woah, there,” she said, “Looks like you can’t really balance yourself. I’m gonna- how about this. I’m sure our bosses will understand that what you did tonight was really nice.”

“Nice…?”

“Yeah,” said Cassie, “You’re basically a superhero for this. You don’t need to worry about mopping the rest of the floor.”

Cassie began to fix her own clothes, putting herself back together.

“I’m good to drive now. You clearly aren’t in any state to do so,” she said, “How about we go back to my place… sober you up, lack of a better term, and we’ll explain ourselves tomorrow?”

That sounded just wonderful to Hannah. She nodded vigorously, and followed Cassie out of the office on tottering legs.

***

Hannah woke up with a headache and a strange feeling of softness. She groaned and fumbled around on an unfamiliar bed, trying to remember what had happened the previous night. She had definitely met a very nice woman named Cassie. That woman had… had some drinks with her after work? That part wasn’t clear. She remembered feeling kind of drunk, but not drinking anything with alcohol in it. Then they went over to Cassie’s place. She definitely saw Cassie’s tits at some point, she was definitely sure of that, and they were very pretty. As she opened her eyes to the faint light, she saw Cassie next to her, already up, wearing sweatpants and a sports bra.

“What happened last night?” Muttered Hannah.

“Do you remember the milk?”

Hannah was suddenly hit with the rest of the memories of what had happened, though there was still a large blank for what happened after she left work. She had gotten inexplicably drunk and ridiculously full on another woman’s milk, and then gone home with her, and then.

“Oh fuck,” she said, “Did we have sex?”

“No,” said Cassie, “Well, unless you consider vigorous nursing and you continually pawing at me throughout the night for more milk to be sex. Also, you’re fat now.”

“What?”

Hannah suddenly sat up in bed and nearly screamed. Just as inexplicable as Cassie’s tits was her own overnight transformation. Her thighs were thicker, and so were her arms, now heavy with plush fat. Her breasts had likewise gotten a big leg up, now sagging onto the most changed part of her body. Gone were the abs that had taken so much hard work. Now, she had a large, soft apron of fat that spilled over her waist. After taking it in for a moment, she laid back and groaned.

“That’s going to take forever to work off at that gym,” Hannah said. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Cassie, “I’ll take you to the researchers, they’ll get you back in shape in no time.” 

Cassie paused and looked at her, and then slowly began to take off her bra.

“But before we go… I think I’m full again. Mind if you help?” 

Hannah rolled her eyes, and then gladly aided a woman in need once more.

[redflagshipwriter]

ANOTHER UNDEAD FENTON

Inspiration came from this post by @stars-obsession-pit !

Word count: 1479

Masterpost of Archive Down Fics here.

(I wrote three dp x dc fics based off of prompts I've seen in the last day for reading while the site is getting maintenance. )

There was a high, shrill scream in the Fenton lab.

Maddie bolted for the stairs, abandoning her coffee without a thought. She flung herself down to see Jack bent over a body in front of the portal.

“Is this person a threat?” Maddie prepared to defend her husband, but the body didn't move.

Jack looked up at her. “No, I was just surprised! I think he's hurt, Mads.”

Her bleeding heart husband. She crossed the room and rolled their intruder over to see it was a kid, maybe Danny's age. In his sleep, he had a sweet, soft face. His face and throat were covered in faint scars.

Well. That was one of hers, now. No getting around it. That was a teenage boy on her floor who has obviously been the victim of violence.

“Well, shit,” Maddie said companionably. She blew out air between her teeth. “Dear, would you put clean sheets on in Jazz's room?”

They were running out of space, between the clones and the past evil alternate future children.

Jack saluted her, shouted an affirmation , and bounded away.

Maddie took a moment to wonder if her children would be an infinitely expanding collection and if so, if it would be better to move into Vlad's castle than to build the home addition they had planned for.

She gathered the teenager up in her arms despite him being her size, and laid him out on an exam table. She started checking his vitals.

A hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Maddie said. She redirected her hand to smooth hair behind his ear. He blearily followed the movement, just as obviously intelligent as he was obviously compromised. She didn't know if it was a concussion or drugs or what, but this boy was not well. “It's Friday June 29th, and you're in Amity Park, Illinois. I'm Madeleine Fenton and you're at my house because you fell through a portal. Is there someone I should call for you?”

He stared at her. She could see the moment he decided not to speak to her.

That situation didn't change much all day. The kid walked himself up to bed and peered around at Jazz's old posters. He seemed to want to be alone, but Maddie caught him watching Dani and Dan playing catch in the yard. She made eye contact with him over her book and then looked back at her shrieking kids. Dan was doing flips on the trampoline and launching his sister in the air, catching and tossing her back up in the nick of time between flips.

Their new boy closed his curtains.

“I was thinking about Dante,” Jack said, bringing out a pitcher of iced tea. “Or, how about Jasper! Eh? Eh? You know, like Jazz-per?” Jack belly laughed.

“He probably has his own name,” Maddie said calmly. She'd estimated him at 16 or so, anyway. But whatever. If he wasn't going to give them a name, they did eventually need something to call him. And they needed to sort out accommodation fast, before Jazz got back from her college tour trip.

“Let's go with Jasper until he gives us his real name.” There were enough Ds in her home, honestly.

She lured Jasper out of his room for lunch. He sat at the kitchen table and watched them all warily. He only ate what they ate.

Danny arrived mid-meal. “Mom! Dad!” There was a whumpf as he probably threw himself onto the sofa. “We wanna go to Elmerton, that ok?”

“You should take your brother with you,” Maddie called back. “He needs clothes.”

“What?” Danny clearly pried himself up and came into the kitchen. Maddie silently offered to make him a plate. “No, I ate at Tuck's. Dan, what'd you do to your clothes?”

“Nothing, you pathetic worm,” said Dan, who really was a sensitive boy. “I am not the topic of discussion, you blithering fool.” He jerked a finger at Jasper. “New one.”

Danny stared.

Jasper looked uncomfortable. He gave a sort of hello nod.

“He's, uh, he's not-”

“Not a clone or alternate future version of you, nope,” Maddie agreed. “Though he did come out of the portal. We wondered if he might be a ghost, but it didn't seem necessary to ask.”

Jasper full body flinched at the word “ghost”, but he looked confused.

Danny squinted at his new bother who, it must be said, did look a bit like a Fenton already. “Not a ghost,” he said after a long pause. “But a little undead. Not sure what kind. But yeah, you're walking dead, buddy.” He clapped Jasper on the shoulder.

“You'll fit right in!” Jack cheered. “Dan is half dead! So is Danno! And so is Dani here! And-”

“Thank you, Jack,” Maddie cut him off. “It might be a sensitive subject, don't you think?”

“Nah,” said Danny, stealing food out of the pan despite saying he wasn't hungry. “We aren't that sensitive. Like-” he looked at Jasper and explained: “I got electrocuted to death in the lab two years ago. Dan is from an alternate future where everyone he loved died, so then he killed everyone else on earth. And Dani is a science experiment baby.”

“It's true,” Dani said solemnly. “I'm a work of science.”

“You make me sound so uncool,” Dan complained, stabbing at his spaghetti.

Jasper laughed for the first time. He himself seemed surprised by the sound. It was hoarse but there was promise there.

When the boys were off at the mall in Elmerton with Sam and Tucker, Maddie called up Vlad.

“You want to come here?”

“I’ve got more kids than I have rooms in my house,” she said wryly. “So if the offer is still open���”

“Yes, of course it is,” he assured her. “But- most of the little ones are still in the Ghost Zone, correct?”

“They're not big enough to leave yet,” Maddie agreed. “Which is why I need to be near a portal.” The ghostlings were staying with the LunchLady and Box Ghost, but they needed to be able to be in touch. “But no, I've got another one.”

Glass shattered in the background. “Another- what happened to Daniel this time?”

Maddie laughed at how flustered her old college friend got. “Nothing to do with Danny, actually, this one fell out of the portal. He's some level of partly dead, but we don't think he's a ghost at all.”

Left unsaid was that they needed to do a lot of research to figure out what other possibilities there were. If they could get into contact with Danny's GP, he might be able to get them on the right track.

“Well.” Vlad took a moment to rally. “When will the family be arriving?”

Two months later, all the kids were pretty settled in.

Jasper had never shared a name, but he was happy to let them call him Jay. He was a phenomenal big brother to Dani. He wrestled with Dan. He bullied Danny into doing his homework. It had been something of an administrative nightmare to get Jaspen enrolled in school, but Vlad had pulled off whatever magic trick he'd done for Dani (applied a lot of money to the problem, Maddie supposed) and Jay had settled in very well.

“Your debut in society,” Maddie hummed, making a point of straightening Jay’s tie. He was growing already, she was sure of it! He was going to wind up as tall as Jack.

“I've been to parties before, Mom,” Jay drawled, and then flushed a dark red that meant he didn't want to be asked questions. Maddie tweaked his nose instead of answering.

“But this is the first one where Vlad's introducing you to his business friends!” She said, already dressed up for a fun night. Vlad had flown them all in on his private jet for the day.

“Queen is a family man as well,” Vlad had said the night before, aiming for calculating and coming off soft. “It will put him off his guard or perhaps make him sick with envy that I have brought a higher quality child than he could ever manage to produce.”

They arrived together, Maddie on Jack's arm, keeping her flock of kids within eyesight as Vlad led the pack. She had a perfect view of Oliver Queen seeing them arrive, the smile dropping off his face, and him choking on his drink. He did look very silly, Maddie had to admit.

“Inept,” Vlad hissed, very pleased. “The fool can't even drink. His company will be mine-” he looked at Danny for some reason. Vlad faltered at whatever be saw. “....Through legitimate business practices, such as buying a majority of stocks,” Vlad weakly finished.

Maddie slapped him on the back. “Go get him, tiger.”

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[miffysrambles]

haiii!! Thisbis my first time doing a request and im actually embarassed and prob u gonna decline it and find me weird and and- jdkgjwlej (overthinking rn)

Let me breathe before saying the embarassing request-

Could i request an Moon Goddess Reader x Wukong? (The design for reader inspired on Moonlight cookie :33 I'M A FAN FOR HER AND SEA FAIRY-) like some sun and moon stuff? It can be romantic and how they met for first time! It can be headcanons or anything you want

Again- sorry for the request im just so nervous and embarassed.

-Ander :3

[HELLO FELLOW COOKIE RUN FAN !!! it's not embarrassing at all, it's a very cute prompt !!]

[NOT PROOFREAD BC I AM TIRED]

Wukong with a Moon Goddess S/O

Wukong had first met you when you landed on one of the beaches on Flower Fruit Mountain.

Your impact caused quite a crash, being able to be heard from his hut with all the monkeys nearby freaking out from the loud noise. 

Wukong immediately went to check it out, holding an arm out in defense of the small simians behind him when he saw your form slowly sit up on the sand below you. 

When he saw it was a deity, he kept his guard up of course but something about you was just so… alluring?

He couldn't keep his eyes off your features as he slowly walked towards you, bending down to gently help you up. 

“Hey, you ok there?” His voice spoke lowly to you as you turned around, and it was like love at first sight if you could believe it!

He felt a boom in his chest as his eyes met yours, he swore he could see beyond the cosmos in your (eye-colored) pools.

Once you explained you were a moon goddess and you accidentally landed here from your magic, he decided he was gonna help ya!

Over the next few months, you stayed with Wukong on FFM (despite you could easily get back home, you two were just too curious about one another) and you two hit it off quite well. Whether it was telling each other stories or just sitting next to each other and enjoying the other's company. 

He also found your powers and magic kinda funny, it was like the complete opposite of his, just like you.

He was the light and you were the night after all. 

Despite being so different, you balanced each other quite well, you were softspoken and calm while he was just the complete opposite of that.

He loves to take you on his cloud, you both would fly through the sky and land at a random spot to star gaze.

He loved it when you talked about the cosmos, you were so passionate about them and he could listen to you talking about them for hours.

Stargazing on a random cliffside was actually the place he decided to confess, despite being the self proclaimed great sage he was BEYOND nervous.

Although it had only been about a year since you landed on FFM, he knew this was genuine love especially since he had been alive for so long.

He decided just to go for it.

Hey if you reject him, he’ll just go into hiding on Flower Fruit Mountain somewhere for the rest of eternity, easy peasy!

Wukong took a breath as he gently grabbed your face, taking your attention away from the night sky to him.

A warm smile spread across his face as he took ahold of your hands in his. 

“Hey starshine, I’m not really experienced with this sort of thing. But, I think we should take this to the next level if ya know what I mean… Because I LIKE like ya. So, what do ya say?”

Of course, you liked him as well giving him a kiss in response.

"Sorry I should have asked... Is that ok?"

A big goofy smile spread across Wukong's face as he scooped you up in his arms, nuzzling his nose against yours under the cool glow of the moon.

"Of course, that's ok moonlight, it's always ok for you to do that. In fact, you should do it again."

[unpredictable-probabilities]

The Pleasures of Dreaming and Waking

Summary:

Hob spends time with Dream after a long week at work. As they chat over their usual table, they grow more comfortable in expressing their fantasies and endeavour to explore them.

Notes:

Inspired by this fic written by @delta-pavonis <3

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,716

Square/Prompt: B3 - Somnophilia |  @dreamlingbingo

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Making Out, Nipple Play, Smut, Eldritch Sex, Light Bondage, Consensual Somnophilia, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Orgasm Edging, Multiple Orgasms, Sweet, Sweet/Hot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Naked Cuddling, Post-Coital Cuddling, Porn Without Plot, Porn With Feelings

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59931001

———

The sounds of conversations combined with the clinking of cutlery and soft footsteps is making Hob sleepy.

He had a long week at work and only managed to catch a break now that it's Friday; he stifles a yawn behind his hand and mumbles thanks to the waiter that just brought their order to their table.

“Are you well, my love? You seem exhausted.” A frown creases Dream’s forehead, and Hob still marvels at how Dream is more comfortable with expressing his emotions now, especially since they started dating three months ago; a fact that Hob still has trouble believing if he thinks about it too hard.

Hob nods and straightens up in his seat, trying to blink the fatigue out of his eyes. “I'm alright, love, don't worry. Just pretty knackered with finals week coming up. Been up late catching up on grading papers and all that.”

“You should have informed me sooner. We could always meet in my realm while your physical body rests.”

“Yeah, but I'm quite fond of this place,” Hob admits. “This table is where I was sitting when you first came back. I like talking with you here.”

“You are stubbornly sentimental,” Dream chides, though there's an unmistakable smile on his lips.

“You love it,” Hob says pointedly, taking some chips from the basket.

Dream makes a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Very well. What woes did you experience in the world of academia today? I have heard it is part of unwinding to talk about how one’s day has gone.”

“You learned that in one of those relationship books you read in your library?” He walked in on Dream reading that sort of book once in the Dreaming during their first month of dating. Dream vanished the book in an instant when he saw Hob, but Hob had been so endeared that he had pushed Dream against the shelf and kissed him senseless.

“Perhaps.” Dream drinks from his mug of hot chocolate to hide his face, but not before Hob sees the subtle pink on his cheeks.

Hob grins and reaches for Dream’s hand resting on the table, fiddling idly with the cuff of his sleeve. “Nothing remarkable happened, at this point even the students were just waiting for the weekend so classes were rather quiet. Then afterwards I went with some of my colleagues to that pub near the university, and we just traded mindless gossip to purge our brains of essays and staff meetings.”

Dream turns his hand so his palm is facing up, and he brushes his thumb back and forth on Hob's wrist as he speaks. “I am sure the other patrons enjoyed hearing gossip from academics.”

“I'm not so sure I did, honestly. My mate Nick runs his mouth after a few pints, and I didn't need to hear that he had a wet dream about our colleague from the Arts department. Does that fall under your jurisdiction, by the way? You just know whenever someone's fantasising in their dream?” Hob has already asked a lot of questions about Dream and his function, which Dream always answers with some degree of amusement, but Hob still feels like there's so much more to learn.

“I am able to see into someone's dreams should I wish, but unless a nightmare is crossing a line in troubling them or other similar concerns, I have no obligation nor desire to do so. And any fantasies they might have are created by their own minds.” Dream pauses and tilts his head slightly to the side. “Do you wish for us to do the same? To share such intimacies in my realm?”

Hob feels his face warm and he chuckles. He still gets caught off-guard by how direct Dream can be nowadays. “I thought you said you can't read minds?”

“I can sense daydreams. And yours are often loud.” The corner of his lips tilts up in a smirk.

“Well, can you blame me? People dream about that kind of stuff all the time, but for you and me, it would be real. It would actually be you.”

Dream’s smile disappears and he seems to hesitate, his face becoming guarded.

“Hey,” Hob says gently, stroking Dream’s arm with his fingers. “We don't have to, okay? All the sex we have here in the Waking is already perfectly amazing.”

“Crude.” Dream's eyes twinkle in amusement and he seems to relax. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “You have seen my form in my realm. How… different. I look.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “You mean being paler and taller than an average human and having galaxies for eyes? And wearing that sinful robe that would be considered indecent in the streets of London?”

Dream lowers his gaze and is obviously trying to suppress a smile. “I am trying to be serious, Hob.”

“Oh I'm perfectly serious. I'm surprised you didn't sense my daydreams whenever we walked around your realm with you wearing that thing.”

“I… did. But.” Dream trails off, his fingers tapping restlessly on the inside of Hob’s arm.

“What's wrong?” Hob rarely sees Dream be so hesitant.

“I am… afraid. To hurt you, in my realm. If we engage in physical intimacy.”

Hob’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Hurt me? You could never hurt me, love.”

“I might.” Dream’s voice sounds strained with worry. “In my realm I am… more. In the throes of passion I might lose control of my humanoid form.” He looks right at Hob. “You inspire such greed in me, Hob Gadling. I will have you for as long as it takes until I am sated.”

Hob swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. If Dream intends to discourage him by what he just said, he's spectacularly failing. “So exactly as we always do it, then?” he manages to say lightly.

Dream huffs out a chuckle. “You are not daunted at all.” He sounds almost impressed.

“��Course not,” Hob says easily. “Is it something that you want, though?”

Dream nods slowly. “I have thought of it. More than once. I should like to have you in my bed, at the heart of my palace. So the very essence of our ardour seeps into each fibre of my realm, that none may doubt my affections for you.”

Hob takes a shaky breath, unable to look away from Dream. They should probably be talking about this somewhere more private, but right now the most prominent thought in Hob's mind is if Dream wants it just as much as he does then why haven't they done it yet.

“Okay, okay,” Hob says mainly to calm himself. “Since we both want the same thing, is there any way I can make you more comfortable with the idea? We can use safe words, and I bet you can sense anyway if I feel like something’s too much for me.”

“I am uncertain about that. I have never been able to sense your discomfort in any of our couplings.”

“That's because I've never felt any discomfort, love. Like I said, everything we've done has been amazing, and I think you know by now that you're not the only one who can get greedy,” Hob says cheekily.

A smile curves Dream’s lips. “That is a fair point.”

“I know. So then. Um…” Hob looks around at the pub. “D’you wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

“You are not too tired?”

“Oh believe me, I'm more awake now than I've been all week.” Hob calls over one of the waiters and tells him that they're taking their food to go.

“Eager, beloved?” Dream raises an eyebrow playfully after the waiter leaves.

“No more than you, Your Majesty.”

Dream makes a low humming noise in his chest that might have been a purr or a growl. Either way, it's definitely a sound of approval and that's all Hob needs to practically drag Dream upstairs as soon as they get their takeout bag.

Hob takes a shower first because he's not sleeping with his boyfriend while carrying the grime of public transport, nevermind that it's the quickest shower he's ever taken in his life.

When he gets out of the bathroom wearing a fresh shirt and sweatpants, he sees Dream on his bed wearing black silk pyjamas, sitting up against a pillow and reading Lord of the Rings. The whole image is so soft that it makes Hob’s chest ache.

“I like seeing you like this,” Hob says as he sits next to Dream.

“On your bed?”

“Relaxed.” Hob kisses the tip of Dream's nose. “Do you still want to talk about it?”

Dream nods. “Do you?”

“Yeah. Thanks for waiting while I showered.”

“You were not gone long. I had not even finished the chapter I was reading.” Dream closes the book and puts it on the nightstand. “I still do not know what happens after Frodo and Sam meet Merry and Pippin.”

“Oh, should I shower for longer then so you can continue reading?”

“If you step in that shower again I should be inclined to join you.”

“Talk first,” Hob says firmly, rather proud of himself for declining such a tempting offer. Granted, he declined in favour of a much more tempting one. “How'd you feel about safe words?” he turns to his side to more comfortably face Dream, folding a knee under him.

“They could prove to be useful, yes. What words do you recommend?”

“We can use the traffic light system. Green means continue, yellow means slow down, red means stop immediately.”

Dream considers for a moment. “And you promise to use them with no hesitation?”

“Yeah,” Hob nods. “And you should too.”

Dream slowly blinks at him, looking surprised.

“You can use them too,” Hob clarifies. “You're allowed to say if you're uncomfortable, yeah?”

Dream is silent for a few moments, forehead creased in thought. Then he slowly nods. “Alright. And I should like to give you control to shape the Dreaming.”

“What?” Now it's Hob's turn to be surprised.

“My realm is tied to my temperament. I may cause a storm without meaning to. Or an earthquake. While you might not be powerful enough to stop these things entirely, you will have the ability to shape the environment to conjure whatever shelter best suits your comfort.”

The first thought in Hob's mind is how utterly sweet Dream is to even think of granting him that much power over his realm; Hob is aware that that much trust given to him is not to be taken lightly.

The second thought following closely after is that Hob wants to see just how much he can make Dream lose control while sharing his bed. He wonders if he can pleasure Dream enough for him to make actual fireworks appear.

Dream chuckles and rests his forehead against Hob’s. “Your priorities continue to fascinate me, Hob Gadling.”

“Shall I show you how fascinating I can be, then?” Hob reaches up to run his fingers along the collar of Dream's silk shirt.

Dream purrs low in his chest and holds the back of Hob’s neck to slot their lips together.

Hob groans softly and clenches his fist into the fabric of Dream's shirt, pulling him down to lie on top of him.

“I thought you wished to do this in my realm,” Dream says playfully against his lips, pupils already blown.

“Still do. Take me there then, my lord.”

There’s sand and the familiar feeling of drifting off to sleep, and then all at once Hob feels a different bed under him, smooth as satin and softer than goosefeathers.

Dream is looming over him, his black robe nearly slipping off a pale shoulder. His blue eyes flicker down to Hob’s clothes, running over them with a curious gaze.

Hob looks down and realises that he’s wearing a bottle-green robe, loosely tied at the waist and with nothing else underneath. “I owned something like this back then,” he recalls. “In the 1500s, I think. It was always comfortable.”

Dream nods in approval and noses along the line of Hob’s jaw. “Good. Here you shall have every comfort.” He sinks his teeth in the skin beneath Hob’s ear with just enough pressure to make him shiver.

“I wish I could carry your marks with me to the Waking,” Hob says breathlessly.

Dream pulls back to meet his eyes, and for a second Hob wonders if had said something wrong.

“If you truly wish it, I can extend my consciousness to my physical form currently sleeping beside yours. I will make love to you in the Waking as I do here. And you will have my marks until your body heals them away.”

Hob feels his eyes widen, his heart thumping in his chest. And once again he wonders why they’d never done this before. “Will I be able to feel what you do to my physical body? Even here?”

Dream considers it. “I can put your consciousness in the liminal space between sleeping and waking, just enough for you to feel my touch in your realm. Is this what you wish?”

“Yes,” Hob whispers, absently realising that he has his hands clenched into fists on Dream’s robe.

“Very well.”

Dream closes his eyes, and suddenly Hob feels smooth hands trail slowly up his thighs, even when Dream hasn’t moved at all. Cool fingers wrap around his cock and he gasps, hips jerking up against Dream’s thigh.

“Did you vanish my clothes?”

“I did not think you would need them.” There’s an edge to Dream’s smile, and when he opens his eyes the blue has vanished too, replaced by pools of black with brilliant stars at the center.

Hob pulls him down for a kiss, and Dream opens up immediately. Hob loses himself in the feeling of their tongues against each other and Dream’s body undulating above him. They both still have their robes on, but Hob can feel a hand slowly stroking his cock, a mouth around his nipple. He hears a whimper that might have been his but never felt it leave his throat.

“Dream,” Hob gasps, hips stuttering against Dream’s thigh. The sensations in the Waking haven’t stopped, but with most of his consciousness here in the Dreaming they all feel distant, like a vivid memory that can never live up to the real thing. “Touch me. Here.”

“As my love commands.” Dream unties Hob’s robe with one hand before pressing their lips together again.

Hob sighs against the kiss as he feels Dream’s hand caress his torso, gliding lower and kneading the flesh of his thigh. He wraps his arms around Dream’s neck, runs his fingers through soft midnight hair that seems constantly ruffled by wind despite the lack of any breeze.

The sensations in the Waking stop abruptly, and before Hob could begin to wonder why, he feels teeth sink into the inside of his thigh.

“Ah!” Hob arches his back, breaking the kiss and pulling Dream’s hair. His cock twitches and he feels the heat of Dream’s mouth wrap around him—in the Waking. Hob moans in frustration, his cock hanging heavy and neglected in the open air. “Do you even have plans to fuck me here?”

“I am marking you in the Waking. That is what you wish, is it not?” Dream rakes his nails lightly across Hob’s chest, scraping a nipple and making Hob twitch.

“Just in the Waking? What happened to being greedy?” Hob quickly bunches up Dream’s robes, thrilled to find that there’s not a stitch of clothing underneath. He grabs Dream’s bare arse and pulls him flush against his groin.

Dream throws his head back with a shaky gasp, his eyes fluttering close.

Hob pulls him down and mouths at pale clavicles, licks at Dream’s icy throat and nips at his jawline.

Dream surges down to kiss him, and at the same time Hob feels his thighs being spread open in the Waking.

Dream's tongue reaches into him from both ends, soft and slick and far longer than any human tongue should be.

Hob squirms as he feels Dream’s tongue move inside him in the Waking, feeling full and empty all at once. He grips the back of Dream's neck, ruts against his cock.

Dream makes a wounded noise and returns the enthusiasm, grinding down hard until Hob’s sure they're carving a dent into the plush cushions.

Hob feels precome on his belly, and he needs Dream inside him now but he also needs him to never stop moving.

And then Dream does stop, even his movements in the Waking.

Hob opens his eyes, mind clouded in a haze of confusion and lust. He sees Dream looking around their surroundings and blinking.

Hob begins to realise that even though they're still on the same cushions, they're no longer in Dream’s bedroom.

The ceiling made of a starry night sky is replaced with an elaborate mosaic of figures that might be deities, and the marble walls are now stained glass windows letting in colorful sunlight that dapples on the steps leading down from where he and Dream are.

Dream shifts to his side to give Hob room to sit up and look around. He realises that they're on a raised platform overlooking a great hall with long tables and tall double doors at the far end. They're the only ones here, and the vastness of the place has a solemn quiet to it.

“Where are we?” Hob’s voice echoes softly.

“You brought us here, beloved.”

“What?” Hob frowns and looks around again, paying more attention to the details.

The wall behind them is painted with doves and bells so intricately that Hob can almost hear them, and he suddenly recognises that the deities depicted on the ceiling are who the townspeople considered the gods of marriage from about six centuries ago.

“This is a wedding hall,” Hob breathes. I brought us here to shag on the altar.

Dream blinks at him slowly. “Why did you choose this place?”

“I didn't mean to,” Hob scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I guess, um…” he feels his face warm up. He looks down and fidgets with the sheets. “I'm not proposing or anything, I don't even know what that would mean for you but… I s’pose I liked the symbolism of it. Us getting married…” He trails off and hesitantly meets Dream’s gaze again.

Dream is looking at him in bewilderment, and Hob feels panic rise in his throat, images of a rainy night and a black figure storming off flashing in his mind.

“Look, I can't control what my brain thinks,” he hurriedly says. “You can whisk us back to your room—”

Dream moves and pins him down on the cushions, claiming his lips with teeth and tongue and the intensity of the birth of a star.

Hob’s body quickly gets back with the program, whatever he was feeling before they got interrupted by the location change has come back in full force, and then some.

He grunts when he feels Dream slip a finger inside him, the sensation so vivid that it takes him a second to realise that it's happening in the Waking. Dream adds another finger, slick with the lube that Hob keeps in his nightstand drawer, or possibly dreamstuff, Hob doesn't really care. He grinds down on empty air here in the Dreaming, a moan of pleasure and need escaping him.

“You wish to be united with me in this manner?” Dream is actually breathless, and his form is starting to blur at the edges like a freshly made oil painting hanging on a lord’s wall.

He has a subtle glow about him, and Hob can believe that it's coming from the stars in his eyes that seem to burn brighter now. His dark hair ripples softly as if underwater. It's as if one of the gods from the mosaic came to life just to loom over Hob and look at him with utter adoration, as if Hob is the one worthy of worship.

“Of course I do.” Hob threads his fingers through Dream’s hair, caresses his face, his shoulders. Marvelling at how he's allowed to touch a being such as this. “I'll have you in all the ways you would allow,” he says quietly, reverently.

Dream presses their foreheads together. “Hob.” The syllable drops from his lips like a prayer and then he's kissing Hob again, their robes vanishing in an instant.

Hob cups Dream’s face in his hands, his eyes falling close as he inhales the scent of rain and ozone and fresh ink on paper.

He feels Dream's fingers pull out of him in the Waking, and his stomach clenches in anticipation.

The familiar shape of Dream's cock teases at his rim, and Hob realises with a gasp that it's here in the Dreaming. 

Dream tenderly takes his hands and pins them beside his head on the pillow, their fingers lacing together.

Hob is already slick and soft and open, and his eyes roll back in his head when Dream slips in, filling him up inch by delicious inch as Dream’s lips move down to his neck. Their fingers remain intertwined, but Hob feels soft touches up and down his body, becoming more insistent as Dream thrusts deeper into him.

Hob’s eyes flutter open to see that shadows seem to be bleeding from Dream’s form, shaping into tendrils that act as his limbs. Hob doesn't even bother to try counting them, especially not when one tendril touches his nipple, flicking and rolling the hard nub until Hob is squirming and jerking his hips up to meet Dream’s thrusts.

The teeth that scrape and nip at his neck are definitely sharper than usual, and a shiver runs down Hob’s spine, prickling his skin with goosebumps and making his toes curl.

Dream tightens his grip on Hob's hands and slowly pulls out before slamming into him in both realms.

“AH–!” Hob arches his back, or tries to, but finds that the shadow tendrils are pinning him to the bed; wrapped around his waist, his arms, holding his thighs open as Dream continues to thrust into him.

Dream's face is pressed in the crook of Hob’s neck, making growling noises that could never come from a human throat.

Hob’s weeping cock twitches from what little friction Dream’s body is giving, unable to get any more of it no matter how much he strains against the tendrils. Dream slams into his prostate and Hob cries out a sob, tears forming in his eyes.

Dream slows down and pulls back to look at him, the tendrils loosening their hold. “Colour, my love?” His voice sounds wrecked.

“Green,” Hob whines, taking advantage of his mobility to raise his hips and take Dream deeper into him. “Green— Fuck, Please…”

Dream captures his lips in a searing kiss. The tendrils wrap around Hob once more, but this time they help him move, raising his hips to meet Dream each time, faster than what Hob would have been capable of on his own.

He can feel Dream's teeth on him in the Waking while he's being fucked into his own mattress; on his chest, his jawline, his neck, oh his neck, Dream is making good on his promise to mark him, sucking bruises onto the skin and soothing them with his tongue. When that tongue moves down to his nipples, Hob feels so keyed up that he can almost feel it in the Dreaming as well.

A tendril wraps around Hob’s cock and strokes him quickly while another one teases at the slit, and it's all too much and not nearly enough. Hob doesn't quite remember how to breathe, and he tightens his grip on Dream's hands as the tendrils manhandle him to buck and rut against his lover.

The air feels charged, like the moment before a lightning strike, and Dream is panting in Hob's ear as a sudden wind whistles through the wedding hall, the light from the stained glass windows changing colours rapidly as if the sun is moving erratically outside.

Seeing Dream so affected is what hurls Hob over the edge, and he comes with a roar that might have broken the windows but he can't hear anything else above his own voice and the pleasure lighting up his spine.

Dream speaks against his ear, soft lips almost caressing. “This dream is over.”

Hob slams back into the Waking with a strangled cry, frustration crashing over him when he realises that Dream has a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stopping his release even as Dream repeatedly fucks into him, his other hand bracing himself on the bed for leverage.

The whiplash of going from a mind-shattering orgasm to his cock heavy with wanting has Hob going half-mad.

“Dream–!” he digs his nails into Dream’s back, squirming as he tries to get free of Dream's iron grip, only succeeding in deepening the angle of Dream inside him.

“Shall I fuck you into unconsciousness, my lover?” Dream is in his human form again but his blue eyes are no less piercing. “I can take you here, and in my realm, going back and forth until you can no longer distinguish between Dreaming and Waking. Giving you endless pleasure in my realm where you will not tire, and holding back your release here until I decide that I am done with you.”

A full-body shiver runs through Hob; Dream's voice only stokes the fire already burning Hob from the inside, his words making Hob’s cock ache and twitch in desperation.

“You are mine, Hob Gadling,” Dream's hips stutter out of rhythm before speeding up. “Not to capture nor possess. But to adore and—ah—cherish. Mine to care for. Mine to love.” His eyelids flutter and his breaths are coming in pants. “Just as I am yours. To do with as you please.”

He thrusts deep and Hob cries out, his nails raking red lines across Dream's back.

A flash of concern appears on Dream's face as he looks down at him.

“Green, green!” Hob screams before Dream could even think to slow down. “Dream, my love, please…” he whimpers.

“Yes,” Dream says breathlessly, leaning down to kiss him. “Your love. Yours,” he says against Hob’s lips. He deepens the kiss as he strokes Hob’s cock in time with his thrusts.

Hob clenches his hands into Dream's hair, moaning wantonly in his mouth as his hips buck up and down of their own accord.

“With me, my love,” Dream gasps. He slams into Hob’s prostate and twists his hand.

Hob's vision goes white and he screams, his body thrashing under Dream as he spills and spills between them. He hears Dream’s guttural cry in his ear and it only flings him higher into his peak, where nothing else exists except the two of them and Dream’s spend filling him up more than he thought possible.

Their embrace tightens as they shake and tremble, listening to the sound of each other’s breaths as they begin to calm down, their chests heaving.

Dream gently slips out of him and they both groan at the sensation. “Have I fulfilled your expectations, my love?” he asks quietly, brushing away a lock of hair that had stuck to the sweat on Hob’s forehead.

Hob’s brain takes a few moments to understand the question. “Have… What…” he tries to form a coherent sentence while still catching his breath. “I only ever expect for both of us to feel good, and I think we'd been pretty vocal about that just now.”

Dream smiles, a soft thing that brightens up his face. “Indeed. And now, you must sleep,” he brushes a thumb across Hob's cheekbone. “You have been exhausted this week, and even immortal bodies need rest.”

Hob just hums. Given how his eyelids are already feeling heavy, he doesn't have much room to argue.

“Cuddle?” he manages, sleepily running his fingers through Dream's hair.

Dream leans into his touch. “Both here and in the Dreaming.”

Hob vaguely registers Dream waving his hand to clean them up, and then Dream is lying down beside him and snuggling close, tucking his head under Hob’s chin.

Hob wraps his arms around Dream, drifting off to sleep and smiling at what a lucky bastard he is.

———

(Dreamling Bingo Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[eloquent-edits]

Hello!!!!

I'm writing a rivals to lovers office AU and am in need of some inspiration. Can you please do a list of office AU prompts? I don't mind if they get suggestive.

Absolutely! (Also thank you for being the first person to request prompts :3)

Character A and character B have issues with their work computers at the same time, and the poor IT guy has to deal with their bickering while fixing the computers

The printer is constantly breaking and A can’t help but snidely remark on B’s struggle every time it happens

B critiques A’s work whenever they get the chance, claiming A needs to do better if they want to get up to B’s level (the criticism is actually kind of helpful, just poorly worded)

B’s desk is across from A’s, leading to stare-downs when the other seems to be slacking on work and eyebrow raises when personal calls are taken

A leaves anonymous sticky notes on B’s desk about office drama, rumors, and random news stories to see what sort of conversations B likes (B usually looks at these with confusion, throwing them away buT THEY KEEP SHOWING UP WHY)

In the company project group chat, A and B don’t acknowledge each other outside of emoji reactions unless it is necessary

They are forced to work together on a major project with much longer hours than they expected, leading to sleep deprived A actually being nice to B in the mornings (they share a quiet moment at the coffee machine)

B’s ex comes into the office as another company’s assistant, and A can’t help but be concerned at the grimace and pain in B’s eyes

A starts using the printer incidents to ask about B’s history and get to know them better

A celebration at work includes a happy hour, so B dresses up just a little more than usual and A cannot stop staring

B notices A is lingering around their desk more and teases them about wanting to take their spot (A definitely wants to take them in a fight right?)

A’s car won’t start in the parking lot, so B offers to jump it… it’s the first time seeing B less professional (let’s get those sleeves rolled up and a couple buttons loosened from the button-down)

The AC breaks while only a couple people are in office, meaning it’s up to A and B to try and fix it while waiting on maintenance, leading to B on a ladder and A most definitely trying to not stare at their butt

C, an older friend at the office, retires and throws a massive party where A and B get a little too drunk, and B accidentally compliments A instead of criticizing them (A doesn’t know how to process it and B refuses to acknowledge this ever happened)

After A openly disagrees with one of B’s ideas, B confronts them privately, getting a little too close as A is stubborn and standing firm (give me that tension you can cut with a knife, give me that turn away because otherwise one of them will do something they regret)

B finds A asleep at their desk one morning and can’t decide whether to wake them up for the meeting or to let them sleep longer because this is definitely not normal for A

Turns out A worked their ass off to get a major promotion, one that B was eyeing for a while, which makes B jealous and get a little snappy

A is shifted to another area of the office and an annoying coworker, C, takes over the old spot. B finds the change welcoming and unsettling (“They’re not here to bother me anymore…” “That’s a good thing!” “… Yes. I suppose you’re right.”)

B is called into A’s office to discuss another coworkers’ weird behavior, which gives A the opportunity to call B out on their behavior around A

“It’s like on day one of me working here, you put a note in your calendar that said to torment me whenever you could.”

“You’ve gone from criticizing everything I do to actually being somewhat nice and helpful and then right back to being an absolute prick! I don’t understand it at all. What changed? You still seem to hate me, so why be so kind? Why?”

B doesn’t respond with words, just by slowly reaching out to touch A’s hand and swiftly pulling them into a kiss (ideally B would explain more later but that’s up to you hehe)

[notmorbid]

the vanishers.

dialogue prompts from the vanishers by heidi julavitz.

what happened to me could never happen to you. tell yourself that.

they told me it was all in my head.

you were a mother to me when no one else wanted the job.

why be fair? nobody's been fair to me.

you are all subtlety and whispers.

we were all in some form of love with ____.

in other words, i made shit up.

you really do look kind of dead.

i heard you'd been sick for a long time.

there's nothing you could tell me about yourself that i don't already know.

i recognize you now.

it might be good for you. a disruption to the given system.

according to ___, i'm pathologically territorial.

anything can appear meaningful, at a backward glance.

we are not that sort of people.

most meaningful sentiments are cheapened by articulation.

how would i know, if you never told me?

i am, though. sorry.

i don't hide things from you on purpose.

i practice a no attachment policy. i am all business.

it's no big deal to be used by strangers. it's when you're used by people you know that life becomes unfathomable.

don't worry. your life is about to get better.

when you're ready to fight, give me a call.

what was your authorial intent?

i don't know if i'd call it a career. more of an inspired hobby.

we could be of mutual use to one another.

anything you divulge can be used against you.

i don't go where i'm not invited.

everyone has vulnerabilities. everyone has a weak spot.

when will you stare your sad life in the face?

revenge is not a compelling therapeutic goal.

hate is a form of emotional attachment.

maybe that's your problem. thinking it can be understood.

to forget is to respect the past.

you must have missed yourself.

your good intentions mean nothing.

the past is not past if it is always present.

memory is an act of murder.

i'm an expert at ruining people's lives. it's the one talent i possess.

you might learn things you wish you hadn't.

in some cases, a lie can be more valuable than the truth.

people can be remarkably thoughtless.

tell me why you don't love me.

you are such a parasite.

anything i have of my mother's, i've had to steal.

i know better than to ask anything of you.

what does someone have to do for you to classify them as a monster?

your emotions are like water. they pour onto the people around you.

i tried to say i was sorry.

you're doomed to fail because you're too scared to try.

disappearing isn't very hard when no one is looking for you.

there's no need to be sorry. that's why i don't tell people.

to think i've been afraid of this. to think i've been afraid of you.

come. i'm not going to hurt you.

do you believe i saw a ____?

you really do look like shit.

were you trying not to be found?

i should lie to you, but i don't know you well enough.

to heal is to entomb forever the sickness.

i'm going home, wherever that is.

what good has running away ever done?

there is no knowing the truth from ____.

some people have no taste.

you deserve to have every ounce of marrow sucked from your bones by a hummingbird.

i am not too scared to try.

i want, more than anything, not to be alone.

i'm glad you understand. maybe you can make me understand.

you think i need a massage therapist? what i need is a gun.

it's important to remember that those commit murder are not making smart choices.

i am my mother's daughter. you should be worried.

we don't want people to talk more than they're already going to.

winter in new england is always coming.

sometimes you can resolve the unresolvable by accepting it as unresolvable.

so you're not looking to get better?

reasons are for the survivors. they do the dead no good.

'good health' means being unaware of one's health.

i'm sorry. i can't ever seem to tell you what you want to hear.

don't worry about what i want to hear. tell me what you want me to know.

what you want a person to know is often the last thing you want a person to know.

there's so much i can't tell you. no matter how much i want to.

people overestimate the value of expression.

blame is the cord you can never sever.

[roboticchibitan]

I posted about this in the yarn and fiber dyeing community run by @littlebirdinagarden but I'm posting it for tumblr at large as well. Seeing all the people preparing for tour de fleece had me wishing there was some sort of challenge or event for people who dye yarn/fiber. Except I am physically disabled and can't do a "dye x number of things in Y amount of time" type challenge because when I dye yarn it takes literally all my spoons for that day. But. I was thinking.

What about a list of prompts to choose from as inspiration for a colorway? I'm thinking if I could get enough people interested I could do a monthly dye "challenge" that's a list of maybe 10-15 prompts for people to interpret how they want. You could do just one or all of them, if you had the time and energy.

The problem is I don't have that many mutuals that dye so idk if I could really get enough momentum going for this. Sometimes my yarn dyeing posts take off but mostly they get less notes than my other fiber arts posts. Which is unfortunate because dyeing yarn is really fun and I think more people should do it. It's like painting except you get to take the finished art and make more art out of it which is absolutely EXCELLENT.

[saintsenara]

now, if you'll excuse him, he has to go and fall to his knees before either dumbledore or voldemort.

ok hear me out why must there be an or. why can’t we have snape/dumbledore/voldemort all at once (in the interest of unhinged ships that really could be rather hinged if u think about it, i am waiting patiently for u to tell me how actually, we very much can have snape/dumbledore/voldemort)

hot.

anon, you are so right that snumblemort has the potential to go really, really hard and i am now entirely compelled by it as a concept.

i back each of the constituent two-person pairings entirely - i've written about snumbledore and riddledore, and i know there's an ask sitting in my inbox about snapemort [which i promise i'll get to].

and, i realise, i back them for exceptionally similar reasons.

both snumbledore and riddledore work because the potential for horror baked into them [the age gaps, the fact that dumbledore was both men's teacher, and so on] exist in conjunction with the fact that there would clearly be the foundations for genuinely meaningful relationships chilling cutely among all the ways in which they're fucked up.

all three men are the only people in the series who can be feasibly described as the others' intellectual equals - and all three share the same outlook on what the purpose of magic is and how one ought to relate to it [even if dumbledore hides this behind his shame at how his belief in the value of magic and magical experimentation as power triggered the whole grindelwald debacle...]. i think there's an immediately compelling prompt for a fic in which the three end up being forced to work together to solve some sort of mystery - the chance to pour over ancient manuscripts in candlelit libraries, or race against time to unravel the base of a curse or a poison, or try to figure out a series of puzzles or clues contained within dark objects would be right up their alleys, and nothing's hotter than a man who takes an interest in your sapiosexual pretensions.

but i'm also really interested in the ways in which snumbledore and riddledore really work as the most plausible pairings in which dumbledore can be made to do some actual self-growth.

his canonical relationship with both snape and voldemort is born of his own self-loathing - when he tells snape, in the prince's tale "you disgust me", he's speaking to the memory of a man whose selfish desire to impress someone he loved was utterly destructive; he is not disturbed by meeting the young tom riddle in half-blood prince until he describes himself as "special", and his loathing of the adult voldemort's obsession with fame and notoriety is evidently caused by the fact that these were both things he once [and still] desired.

and he's forced in canon to confront this in his relationship with snape - after snape agrees to kill him in half-blood prince - and to come to regard snape as brave, loyal, steadfast, and trustworthy. he's never - for obvious reasons - made to do this for voldemort in canon [and, indeed, he is strikingly oblivious in half-blood prince to the things about voldemort which inspire harry's sympathy - above all his lingering grief over his mother's death], but i think there are numerous plausible scenarios in which being forced into closer proximity to voldemort could bring this about. the canonical voldemort has an extremely profound - if also extremely odd - sense of honour, and he also possesses the capacity to - in his own little way - be surprisingly brave, and i always think there's something quite moving about fics in which dumbledore has no other option but to recognise this.

and dumbledore having to drop his mask would be good for both snape and voldemort. it's clear in canon that one of the reasons voldemort dislikes dumbledore is that he considers him a hypocrite [especially because he decries voldemort's ambition for public attention while courting such things himself] and that one of the reasons snape dislikes him is that he feels he conceals things from him because he distrusts him, even as he's asking him to risk his life for the order. both of them learning why it is that dumbledore constructed his public mask of benign eccentricity would help them make sense of why he is the way he is.

and it would allow all the similarities between the three to fully emerge. one of the reasons why snapemort really slaps as a ship is because snape and voldemort have so much in common - especially their experiences of childhood poverty, their disappointing fathers who they greatly resemble, and their periphery to the posh, pureblood world they both long to be fully part of and also long to undermine and humiliate. and dumbledore has the shadow of a similarly difficult childhood - and a similarly difficult relationship with his father and his legacy - lurking over him. all three also carry the weight of life-altering grief [even if voldemort is the one of the three unwilling to admit to this]. i think there's a lot of opportunity for the recognition of each in the others that they all canonically use to drive their own loathing to mutate into something which might look a lot like respect...

do i think it would be healthy? ...eh, probably not. all three clearly have really fucked-up views on intimacy and love, for one thing, and i doubt whether any of them really has the potential to let go of their original ways of seeing the others, to be properly honest, or to relinquish the power dynamics established between them from the beginning of their acquaintances.

and yet...

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FICLET] Before I Go

Rated: G Word Count: 849 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, sap, established relationship, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, kisses, parting is such sweet sorrow, flower symbolism

Fluffbruary Prompts: Day 16 neighbor desire horse Day 17 magazine tactile curtains Alt prompts: evening, caress

Additional inspiration taken from a couple of these kisses

Title credit and musical accompaniment: Before I Go by Yanni (Spotify link)

Summary: Season-of-Mists-style visit, some time later in their relationship

On AO3

It is a lush and expansive garden where Hob finds himself on a beautiful summer evening—flowers climbing the trees and blooming in every direction, nocturnal birds twittering their songs in the branches overhead, crickets chirping accompaniment in the undergrowth. The stars twinkle brightly in the blue-velvet sky and the moon shines full and brilliant, a silvery wash of illumination over the landscape. The path under Hob's feet winds between flower beds and lovely stone borders, toward a burbling stream running musically beneath the trailing branches of a willow tree. He follows along to a little wooden bridge arching over the stream and across, to a decadent little bower of trellises wreathed in climbing ivy and dripping with twilight-purple wisteria.

There's a familiar figure waiting there for him, and he smiles as he draws near. "Hello, love."

"Hello, Hob." Dream's eyes glitter softly like the stars, just as dark and depthless as the sky, just as beautiful. The moonlight illuminates him like a work of art, pearlescent skin and raven-feather hair, smoke-shadow robes draping him in regal refinement. He looks ready to hold court, to receive an audience, and Hob is awestruck all over again that this unfathomably powerful otherworldly creature deigns to be his friend, to be so much more; to accept his affections, to return them. He is so very lucky, and he knows it.

He looks up at Dream, who is currently half a head taller than him, and he can feel the fondness shining in his own eyes. "I'm not awake, am I."

"No." Dream's tiny little smile is both affectionate and regretful. "I apologize for usurping your dream; there is something I must attend to that will keep me away for some time. I did not wish to leave without making you aware."

Hob furrows his brow. "It's not Hell again, is it?"

"No. Nor do I anticipate any danger or risk to myself, my realm, but there may be. Delays. In resolving the matter."

Hob knows better than to ask for specifics in this sort of thing when Dream has not given them, regardless of how curious he may be. "Will Matthew be with you?"

"Yes."

"Then I know you're in good company and I'll hear from you if needed." He wishes, in some deep fundamental part of himself, that he could accompany Dream on these sorts of errands, but in this also he knows better. There are so many things in existence that are far beyond what his immortal-but-still-mundane mind can comprehend.

Dream steps forward, closer. "Dearest Hob. I would bring you with me, were it advisable. But as it is not—" he lifts a hand to Hob's face, touches him in the gentlest caress "—I will bid you farewell, and promise to return as soon as is feasible."

Hob places his own hand over Dream's, holds it there as he leans into it. "I'll be waiting, dove. Be safe."

Dream makes no reply, just gazes at him tenderly, leans in until his forehead rests against Hob's. He tangles his fingers with Hob's, splays them behind his neck and tilts in slowly until their lips meet.

It is soft, sweet, short, this kiss; and then another, a gentle farewell before Dream draws back. His hand drops from Hob's face but Hob can't quite let go, following it down, clinging; he is full to the brim with a dozen different emotions and all he wants to do is kiss Dream again, so deeply and so thoroughly that Dream will still taste him long after they've parted, will carry his love with him on whatever this errand is and know that Hob is waiting faithfully for his return.

He's leaning back in already, helpless in the face of this desire, but redirects at the last second, planting a soft kiss on Dream's cheek instead. He won't demand more than was given, not when Dream has duty weighing heavy on his mind, not when Dream has shown such consideration in making sure to take his leave. He is respectful of Dream's time and Dream's responsibilities and he will not do anything to make Dream think otherwise.

But Dream's eyes flash as Hob draws back, and then Dream has seized Hob's bicep and yanked him back in, is kissing him soundly. Hob can't help a delighted smile, at that, but it's quickly lost in the fierce parting of Dream's lips, the yearning wanting lament of his fervent mouth, and Hob loses himself in returning the sentiment.

That. That is a proper kiss goodbye, Hob very carefully does not say aloud, blinking as Dream lets him go.

"Until I return, devoted mine," Dream breathes, the stars in his eyes blazing, and steps back.

"I'll be waiting," Hob says again, the 'as long as it takes' and 'I'll miss you' and 'I love you' unspoken.

Dream smiles, the tiny kitten-soft smile that Hob knows is just for him, and takes his leave.

Hob stays, beneath the twining ivy and the curtains of clinging wisteria, and watches him go, the music of the crickets rising gently in his wake.

= Drafted: 2/17/24 Posted: 2/17/24

Why did I pick wisteria? Gosh I'm so glad you asked! Because it's pretty, and it made for lovely visuals. BUT then I looked up meanings also, and serendipitously I found:

1. Purple wisteria symbolizes royalty and undying devotion or love that transcends time 2. Victorians would include a cluster of delicate purple blossoms in their bouquets when they wanted to send a message of overwhelming desire and passion. In particular, the Wisteria was considered to say “I cling to you” as it would cling to the branches of other trees. Wisteria sends such a strong message of romance in most cultures that they’re usually best used for declarations of devotion or for wedding arrangements. 3. Wisteria—Welcome; Meeting you means so much to me 4. Wisteria gives a symbolic representation of beauty, love, long life and immortality, grace, bliss, honour, patience, endurance, longevity, releasing burdens, victory over hardships.

(There are relevant meanings to the the ivy (fidelity, everlasting life) and the willow (flexibility, adaptation) as well)

Sources: 1 2 3 4

[fractalkiss]

fernando/lance #21 😘

prompt list

for the prompt "chain", and inspired by @wewentcarracing's wonderful ficlet.

-----

Fernando wouldn't say he'd been unprepared, but it's not his fault that it doesn't happen the way he'd pictured. He's discussing onboards, having replayed them with Mitch earlier, talking about pressure changes he'd felt and idly noting to himself how there's bacon strips in his grilled sandwich now; Lance had dropped by the kitchen on Wednesday, cheerful, self-satisfied. But Lawrence catches Fernando during his dinner. He gets served a plate of the smoked pastrami, asks Fernando to sit with him out on the terrace.

"I bet you all need your protein, and Lance has sort of been heckling Ben for over a year, so just put up with it," Lawrence says.

"I think we are quite happy about the menu change," Fernando replies, and Lawrence nods and smiles back at him, appropriately apologetic, polite, ominous in retrospect.

"That's good, that's very good," Lawrence continues. "There are other changes too, with Lance. And I'll just put out there that I've tried not to stick my nose too much into Lance's conditions and his training as he's grown," he goes on, while Fernando's quiet and letting him speak. "I mean, he's recovered now and it's great."

"One hundred percent, yes," Fernando agrees, his own smile feeling reflexive now. Lance has been driving as well as he can. Lance had still been in his driver's room at dinner, strangely convenient.

"I know I don't need to tell you of all people about performance," Lawrence says. "Because I've been thinking about how that shouldn't be affected by whomever my son is spending his time with, or how he spends his time with them."

"Lance has been very focused," Fernando says, honestly, but the crease in Lawrence's brow grows more pronounced.

"Yes, and it wasn't on paper for you to do anything else than help me, and maybe help look after my son here."

"I would—he has been good, with me, so I am happy to help," Fernando says, which feels like a wrong move, and he could try to bring up the damn upgrades to the car if Lawrence wanted to hear it now, but he doesn't like the feeling of how the air seems to have shrunken in on their table. Lawrence had led him out to the farthest corner from the entrance on the small terrace.

"I see him. He's happy," Lawrence says, grimly, and Fernando digs his thumb against the edge of his wine glass, steels himself in the jumping ache that stirs beneath his ribs at this, "Happier than he's been in the last however number of fucking seasons, so I'm not gonna ask."

"Did you and Lance speak, about this?"

"Not exactly. You know, Fernando—I kept Checo back when we were Racing Point because he was mature and he wasn't my son's best friend," Lawrence says.

Fernando thinks about that alternative, and of Esteban, the kind of young, easy friendship built through adolescence that'd probably be eroded and chipped at bit by bit had Lance been on the same team with him, so he supposes Lawrence did know best.

"Checo was also a married man," Lawrence says.

"Ah," Fernando replies, staring.

Lawrence continues, "Was the kind who'd have his own self-imposed curfew, y'know, wasn't going to be out partying, going to one of the yachts whenever and dragging Lance along too much—"

"Of course not," Fernando says, frowning.

—"Or buy Lance stuff either," Lawrence finishes, rubbing between his brows. "Esteban got him a necklace, you know? And Lance would wear whatever if he liked it enough, but he wore that chain thing a lot."

Fernando's voice sort of feels like gravel, but he says, steadily, "I do not think that Lance would treat his friendships lightly either."

"Oh yeah, and I almost didn't notice that he's wearing something new now. Your taste isn't bad, I will say that," Lawrence comments, a little wry, more miserable.

Fernando wasn't going to deny this. He'd pictured this talk happening in a meeting room, in Lawrence's very own office in Silverstone or something after he gets a call from his assistant so he can't decipher anything through an email invite to his calendar and the intention—it hadn't been to show off, exactly. Fernando had picked out something that was subtle, the chain thin but strong with a light tiny pearl of a ring for a pendant, something Lance could easily tuck away under his shirt during race weekends, something that wouldn't dig into his skin as much under his balaclava, or when Fernando's kissing down his throat, curling his hand over Lance's neck when Lance brings him in closer, one hand pushed up Fernando's shirt.

It kind of bothers Fernando, bringing up Checo being a married man. Checo's got a kid; maybe Lawrence is too in over his head at judging face-value that Fernando's never ever given that part of life thought in his years, that he has the impression that Fernando can just win him over by showering Lance with gifts when Fernando knows very well that's not enough, might never ever be enough.

"I like seeing Lance happy," Fernando says, keeps eye contact with Lawrence.

Lawrence nods, says, "Good."

[hillerskalibrary]

Kära Hillisar, dear followers, my fellow Young Royals fans,

Season 3 filming has started today, and what better time to announce a celebration of everything the show has already given us? So wet your pencils, chuck that writer's block down the drain, and mark your calendars, because with deepest pride and greatest pleasure we welcome you to the very first Hillerskalibrary fandom event:

Young Royals week 2023!

The week will run from the 24th to the 30th of April and is open to all content creators who are active in the Young Royals fandom. A playlist for Stedrika? Hell yes. A 5k fic centered on aro-ace Sara? Bring it on! A quick stick figure Wilmon doodle on the back of your Espresso House bill? We wanna see it!!!

What is Young Royals week? A fandom event where all YR content creators are invited to create new content for the YR fandom. Each day of the week, we here at the hillerskalibrary will post a new prompt to inspire creators to come up with a short fic, a quick doodle, or something else entirely. The end result will be a sort of potluck of new content to read, admire, enjoy, share and discuss!

Sounds cool! How do I sign up? You just did! Because this is an open event and we want to encourage as many people as possible to participate, there are no formal sign ups. If you wanna join, you can, simple as that!

What pairings/characters are allowed? All of them. No really! We might do more specific events in the future, but for this one there is no limitations for certain pairings (canon or not!) or characters - as long as they feature in YR somehow.

What type of content is allowed? All of it. No really! Many people think of fic, of course, but there's plenty of other possibilities: playlists, meta, headcanons, gifsets, collages, picrews, ... (amigurumi wilmon, anyone? no?)

I'd love to participate, but I'm not sure I'll be able to create something every day. What if I don't have time? Or am not inspired by the prompt? Then you skip a day. Or two. Maybe you'll do nothing all week and create seven things on the last day. Maybe you'll do three things for one prompt and none for the next. It's all good! No stress, okay?

I'm not much of a content creator... can I still participate? Look, someone's gotta comment on all the fic and reblog all the art, no? (also I think you could TOTALLY do that stick figure doodle)

All right then, I'm in!

That's what we like to hear!

If you have any more questions, please don't hesitate to ask! Until then, we hope you're as excited as we are - only four weeks to go!

-Lis

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @exalted-dawn  |  AO3: Exalted_Dawn

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

Interview with Exalted Dawn

Ed and Dema talk collaboration, developing a personal style, and a bunch of stuff Dema had to redact but is leaving in to build suspense. 

Dema: I know in the beginning you were debating whether to participate as a writer or an artist, and you went with artist. What was the main driver of that decision?

Ed: It was definitely a combination of a few things. Workload and time allotment being the main influencing factors. My attention span when it comes to writing tends to be a bit all or nothing. I can have periods where I can churn out one thousand words in an hour and then go like two weeks without writing anything at all 😂 And then on top of it, with the new game coming out I was sorta trying to factor in how that would affect my ability to stick to a schedule. Drawing is a lot easier for me to sort of one and done over a weekend so I figured it might be better to start there for my first Bang.

Dema: Oh this is your first Big Bang! I don't think I knew that 😂

Ed: YUP LOL

Dema: When you do a collaboration like this, that isn't a commission but is based on another person's work, how do you navigate that process?

Ed: Well, from a starting standpoint, I really like to have a lot of communication with the person I am partnered with. I love collaboration work and really strive to capture the energy of whatever source material I'm working from. So getting the author’s opinions on their own story beats is a huge help. But aside from that, the element of choice in this sort of project definitely played a part. I got to choose a prompt that fascinated me, and then from there, I read through the material the author currently had and chose a few scenes that really struck me with a strong mental image. Something that when I read it, I immediately thought "Oh that would be neat to see in a picture!" From there, it’s back to touching base with the author and making sure that what ideas I have sorta line up with their vision. I want to make sure its respectful of the work its being based on, while still sorta playing to my own interests as an artist and a fan :3

Dema: You're a very prolific artist, how do you keep all these ideas organized? Do they behave themselves up there in your brain?

Ed: HAH! I would like to say that there's some sort of rhyme and reason to my creative process, but if I were being honest, they mostly tumble about in my brain. When I get stuck on an idea, I tend to fixate on it and continue to develop it in my head the more I think on it. With this prompt specifically, I was immediately hit with this idea of a vibe I wanted to get across in my art from the moment I read it. And then that continued to build and build, until I was left with these pretty complete ideas,  accompanied by atmosphere and layout, that I became stuck on. After that, I just laid them out on paper. (The bounty of inspiration certainly didn't help to make the decision easy XD)

Dema: Are you drawing inspiration from anywhere besides the source material for this piece?

Ed: I AM! There were several pieces my mind immediately went to when I was reading through the source material. Lord of the Rings (specifically the cinematic scenery of the Mines of Moria) and The Song Of The Sea were both big ones that I drew immediate parallels to. The huge scale and vast landscapes as well as the beautiful pattern work and 2D story book style typical of Cartoon Saloon’s work were both things I immediately latched onto for this. But more abstractly, having just read [REDACTED], I was already in the mindset of [REDACTED] when I got assigned to this prompt. Since this one is also leaning into the [REDACTED] genre, it sorta pushed me towards these concepts of strong lighting contrast— stark shadows played against bright light. Bold silhouettes.  I was even considering playing with a black and white inked style with colored accents and a heavy focus on crosshatching to get that sort of [REDACTED] look at one point.

Dema: Mmmmmmm how much of that am I gunna have to redact 😂[narrator voice: it was a lot]

Ed: You can totally just delete the second half if that helps XD

Dema: I don't want to DELETE it I'm just gunna redact it haha. IT'S FINE. Also I love that. Sin City vibes.

Ed: YEAH!

Dema: How did you develop your personal style?

Ed: Many years of frustrated grunting at my own artwork kjdhfhjsgvfd LOL no but actually, what I consider to be most typical of 'my style' (and for this question, I'm going with the main illustrative style I typically use for projects like this, since I definitely have multiple) came about pretty much by accident for the most part. I basically stumbled upon it. I had spent many MANY years developing my skills from, like, middle school up through college, first with pencil and paper and then with a very large desk mounted display tablet, and was sort of trying to get to a point where I was satisfied with the look of my own work. It was a slow process, and I hadn't really been satisfied with my progress and where I was. In an attempt to sort of switch back to the more familiar feeling of pencil and paper, I had gotten an ipad to draw on since it was of a more similar size. I had been playing around with it, and was struggling with the pressure settings on my pen for making line art specifically, so I sorta just threw my hands up in the air and said "Y'know what?! I'm gonna try lineless cause why not!" I made this small, lineless doodle of my Dungeons & Dragons character at the time, and suddenly it all just sorta clicked into place! I've been basically drawing like that ever since, but with the aforementioned handful of stylistic exceptions XD

Dema: What do you feel like you are striving for in your body of work? Or I guess, is there a theme or a feeling or a "spirit" in your work you're hoping to convey?

Ed: HMMMMMMMMMMM THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION! I wouldn't really say I'm striving for any single theme all throughout my work (part of the reason why I have multiple distinct styles is so that I can really draw out the desired vibes I'm aiming for in each individual piece). But from a general sense, I think I tend to focus a lot on capturing emotion and atmosphere, especially in the lighting and color I use. As for the spirit I often capture— I don't think it's super intentional on my part, but for my lineless artwork specifically, I definitely get that there is this sort of adventurous, almost whimsical spirit to a lot of what I draw. Rather than dark dramatic pieces, with lots of sharp lines and dynamic movement, there's this sort of softness and quietness to a lot of my work, like capturing a peaceful moment between all the big dramatic stuff. Even for the tonally and visually 'dark' pieces. Which— honestly— I think speaks a lot more to my own personality and preferences than I maybe intend 🤣

Dema: I love that a lot. Thank you for such thoughtful answers, and for taking the time to be interviewed today! I can't wait to see the final piece.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Would you talk about your process of writing short stories, if you don't mind? Do you outline it before hand? do you make it up as you go? is it the same w the prompts you get vs stories like The Blue Key or The Art of Turning 30?

It's different for stories that are prompted on here and stories like The Blue Key, The Gallery of Broken Things or the Art of Turning 30 which I have come up with entirely independently and unprompted.

It's also sometimes different for stories that are prompted on here, and other stories I've written based on a prompt from a friend, such as Escapology, Half Sick of Shadows and My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose - but these are more similar because they are still varying degrees of prompt based.

The first question, when I have an idea/prompt, is how big do I want the story to be. Some ideas require novels, some are perfect for short stories. Figuring out which is which comes with practice.

Writing from a prompt

Stories that are triggered by a prompt come (to a point, some prompts are more specific/detailed than others) with a certain amount of inbuilt scaffolding or clues as to what the story must be about.

I talk about different sources of ideas, including writing from a prompt, in this post. The prompt bit gives a sense of my general process when writing tumblr stories with more specific prompts.

For a non specific prompt...

The next tumblr inbox prompt I think I'm going to write when I have a sufficient moment is:

ah, could you write something about a vampire x mortal who always reincarnates

It's a tumblr drabble, I'm thinking 2000 words max, so fairly simple without an elaborate planned plot. It's just for fun. I don't go into the story assuming I am going to continue it. I also don't assume someone on tumblr is going to read loads of backstory and set-up, so I just skip to the most interesting scene that comes to mind with as little set-up as possible.

So, I know I have a vampire character and a reincarnating mortal character. The 'x' implies that the story is going to have, to some level or another, a romance thread.

However, the prompt otherwise immediately raises a lot of questions; the decisions/answers I make to these questions shape the story. Examples of questions that pop to mind.

Am I writing in the POV of the human or the vampire?

Does the mortal remember that they reincarnate or do they start from scratch every time?

When the story starts, does the vampire know that the love of their life reincarnates, or is this the first time that they are seeing their love after thinking they were going to live the rest of their immortal life alone?

How did the mortal die the first time? Was it happy or traumatic?

If it's not the first time they are seeing each other post reincarnation, how did the previous lives go? This will colour the relationship dynamic.

Why is the mortal reincarnating?

Why are the two of them seeing each other in the present of the story? What does each character want out of the scene?

I love an antagonistic dynamic and conflict is brilliant for short stories, so I might go one step further and immediately decide that I want the vampire and the mortal to be opposed/in conflict in some way.

If conflict, what conflict should I pick?

After a certain amount of this, it's just pick whichever answer I am in the mood for on any given day and go.

Writing without a clear prompt

This is more difficult, but I also tend to love these stories more when I do get inspiration for them. There also isn't one process that works for all of these as it tends to change a bit with every story.

(Although I don't tend to outline short stories.)

More often than not, when these stories happen it is because a very clear idea or nugget pops into my head or a strong urge to write about something in particular, and I tend to write the whole thing in a matter of days or hours. They have a lot of iceberg time in my head where I'm sort of thinking about them, then there's a click.

As an example:

I wrote The Blue Key because I love fairytales, the mythos of Bluebeard and haunted houses. I knew I wanted to write something inspired by Bluebeard in this instance, so I knew that I needed a house, a couple, a key and a locked door that must not/should not be opened.

Because I love these stories, I had them on my mind so I wanted them to play into the story. What does it mean to have so many stories about curiosity and its consequence, about having a love that you are not allowed to look at? I re-read some of my favourites and I came across this quote about Bluebeard by Margaret Atwood. I read people talking about how they would be smarter than the wife, or how they just wouldn't look, as if it's always that easy.

What would happen if you didn't know which story you were in? What would happen if the Bluebeard character was also trapped in a story that he didn't want to play out, where there was love as well as horror? What happens if you are in a story where you have the fairytale rules where you must give your wife a key and you must not tell her what is behind the door.

What happens then?

The Blue Key was my answer to that general brain mulch.

[enden-agolor]

Hey enden! I just wanted to reach out as I know these are hard times for you. I’ve been wanting to say something and give you some support, but I have never known what to say, so I’m just gonna wing it.

First off, I would like to preface by saying you are an incredibly humble artist and writer. You carry great talent, yet you seem to almost expect people to not notice that. Never forget your talent, and that even something you spill out at 2am will most definitely be praised. You inspire me to create, I have been in a art and writing slump for so long. I got caught up in life and lost the love for it. You’ve lit that spark in me once more and want to get me creating, and most definitely writing, in honor of you!! That’s amazing man. You have some real special talent, and the mcsm fandom alongside others are seriously so so lucky to have you.

Second, I send nothing but love and support to you and your boyfriend. I know everything will work out just as you guys need it to. If she doesn’t get her karma legally, she most definitely will another way. I know you guys are so strong and will pull through with flying colors!! Death of a loved one is never ever easy, and the worst always happens to the best people. Know that none of what happened is your fault, don’t let guilt consume you, and both of you take care of and love yourselves. You guys seriously deserve it.

Lastly, on a less dreary note, I would like to ask if you had any fan fiction prompts for Jesskas? I want to write so bad, but I cannot come up with a proper idea that is really interesting and solid, yanno? I want to write something long, that I can really pour my heart out into. So if you had any tips or story prompts, it would seriously be appreciated, and you of course would get a huge shoutout, as you would with or without helping me since you are such a huge inspiration to me.

Best of wishes Enden!!

This may be a long response, so here-

First off, I suppose you are right when you say I don't really expect people to enjoy the content I create. It's not an easy concept for me to grasp. I have a lot of trouble seeing how people can like my stuff so much, or god even say I'm their favorite mcsm artist when there's so many others out there that carry so much more skill with colors and backgrounds and such. I know I'm not supposed to compare myself to others, but it is an incredibly hard habit to end. It's why I'm so shocked when I see actual fanart of my aus, or god even my writing. I cannot go back and read me own works for the life of me because I just cringe so bad at it, so when people say it's good I really just have to trust them and believe it.

All I could ever dream to do is inspire people to create and grow with their own imagination, so hearing that my stuff has done that sort of thing for you (and others who have told me the same) it brings me so much joy, but it truly is entirely hard to believe that it's me and not someone else being the one to do that. I don't know, but I am very honored to hear this from you. It only inspires me to push myself further and I don't know. Maybe some day I can push my imposter syndrome aside and really get a firm grasp on my full potential and be proud of it.

And thank you for the love and support towards our situation... As the days go by I fear more and more that that woman will get to keep her dog and nothing will come out of this other than we just have to move past it. So I hope you're right when you say she'll get her karma some other way. I've never in my life wished something bad to happen to someone. Not like this... So if karma does catch her, let it be as devastating to her as it was to us.

Now, real life shenanigans aside, we can get to the jesskas stuff 😏

For fanfic prompts, I always suggest exploring canon before getting into anything truly ambitious. If there's a certain scene in the game you'd like to further explore and add on to- do it! Like I've always wanted to write a fic that gets into a deep emotional moment between Jesse and Lukas after Jesse rescues Lukas and Petra from the Nether during episode 8 and they all enter the player dorms for the night. Just those off screen moments where you can take the characters and add more to the story is easy and fun in itself. I always like to look deep into the emotional aspect of it all, and really dive into how the characters might be feeling after a situation and how that gentle moment alone together could bring them closer. What I already mentioned being a good example because it's directly after PAMA, Jesse having to watch Lukas and Petra(or Ivor) die, and so on. There's a LOT of feelings to explore there. If that's something you'd want to try and tackle, go for it!! But if there's another scene from the game that really sticks out to you that you feel could be so much more, go for that too. It's good to start small and practice how you want to write the characters. Only reason I started a huge fic like Recovery straight away was because I'd been rping jesskas for like a year and a half already and was confident I knew how to write the characters and I wanted to do more for the little community by writing a nice big fic.

And again, it's Minecraft. There's a whole world to explore and put these two right in the middle of it. Think up certain scenarios you like and add on to it! Like if there's a certain scene you really want to do, build to it. Give the characters a goal and put obstacles in the way so you can really flesh them out on the way to that goal. What made them want to go there? How do they get there? What do they do when they get there? How do they communicate with others that might also be there? And how differently do they treat eachother compared to how they treat the others? Those are all things you really want to know ahead of time. Also pay attention to the scenery. Really look into the visuals your mind creates and do your best to get into the details about it all. There's a lot to get into with writing, and the best part about it is you're in complete control, so go crazy with your imagination, especially since it's Minecraft. It could be entirely self indulgent, or even something out of your comfort zone. No matter what it is, it's still growth and it's still progress to being a better writer. Just make sure you're having fun.

Also, thanks for taking the time to send this ask. I appreciate you 🩷

[shipskicksandgiggles]

dialogue prompts

hi! I'm ellis, and for the past 4 years I've been a college student and have had a very normal time about it, evidenced by the very normal collection of sentences I have heard and said during my time in college that make for fantastic fic prompts for me and anyone else to use as inspiration. this list was delayed because while school has been over with for a month now, this is my last college list since I graduated, but I realized it will very likely not be my last list, because people say insane shit to me all the time and I am never at a loss for material. anywhom, yall know the drill, pick a number, a fandom, and a ship or dynamic and send them my way!

“My life is so weird, I just wrote an email with the subject line ‘Eggs’.”

“I know I texted you at 3am but this is on brand for me. Why are you awake?”

“Yeah we went and picked up six dozen eggs and pet five dogs. It was a good day.” “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey I have a soup related question.”

“He’s like if a shitty hot water heater was a person.”

“Do you think my students know that I have a personal life? I don’t think they even realize I’m a person.”

“Is this like, your big girl job?” “No, it’s a job in my field and I want to move closer to it, but it’s not my ‘big girl job’. Yes, it’s my big girl job, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I’m invested in drama from my town that happened over a hundred years ago. Like I want to know what the ice cream incident of the mid-1880s was.”

“I’m actively crying in the parking lot of a gas station but it’s okay because it’s funny.” “How?” “Don’t think about it, life is a cosmic joke.”

“I’m known as the egg guy now.” 

“I sort of called my mom a bad parent and now I think she’s actually reevaluating how she’s treated me and it’s kind of wild.” 

“I don’t want to be a baby cop.”

“I’m having a weird day.” “You don’t have normal days.”

“I’m all for gut feelings, but this is a man we’re talking about, not your education or your job.”

“So good news, we got a new fridge. Bad news, it’s small.”

“Maintenance introduced me to the new guy which concerns me. Like hey, come meet the guy who hasn’t had a normal problem ever!”

“Oh shit.” “Did you just get a bloody nose?” “Yeah.”

“My mom loves you more.” “That’s because I’m delightful.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I physically moved a guy because he didn’t want to listen to me?”

“What do you mean you've never done this before?” “Why would I lie?”

“Hey are you mad at me?” “No, should I be mad at you?” “I don’t think so, our boss just said you were.” “If I was, I forgot why, so you’re good.”

“The security guy keeps asking if I’m okay. I swear, you cry in front of a man one time.”

“You just have to tell people how it is sometimes. Wait, is that why people are scared of me?” “Oh I’m absolutely terrified of you.”

“I need to call them back. Oh nevermind, speak of the devil!” “Are you kidding? Was that a joke?”

“I’ll meet you there, I just need to go cry in my car for a minute first.” “Why are we crying?”

“Listen, I invited you because I knew you were going to be the conversational one.” “And then I had a mental breakdown 20 minutes before we showed up?” “Yeah, that was scary. Don't do that again please.”

“I think when people see you cry it’s like seeing an adult man cry. Like no one knows what to do and something is obviously very wrong because that never happens.”

“I would not trust a single one of you to drive my car. Except maybe you.” “I’m a great driver, that’s a solid call.”

“I’m going to bleed out through my nose.”

“Aww, that’s so gay.” “Honey, we are gay.”

“I think we keep saying things without saying them. And I think I’m going to actually say it.” “You’re going to get killed.” “That’s okay.”

“Is your kid going to be there?” “Maybe. Would you come if I said yes?” “Yes.”

“Hey the power’s out.” “What? Mom, I need to call you back.”

“I don’t think that’s your autism, I think that’s your OCD.” “My what? I’m not OCD.” “Oh honey, are you in a headspace to learn something about yourself?”

“I think today is just unlucky. You’re getting a trial by fire moment just like I did last year.” 

“Are we taking the ramp?” “I’m in a wheelchair, do you want me to take the stairs?”

“My sister texted me to see if you’re okay.” “Your sister has my number.”

“You good?” “I’m going to go home and take an ibuprofen.”

“I think you committed too hard to the bit.” “I definitely committed too hard to the bit.”

“Please tell me you also don’t like Taylor Swift.” “Are we about to become best friends?”

“Oh yeah, the one testicle, six toes, and he’s related to Hitler incident. I remember that.”

“Are you in a place emotionally where I can be sappy?” “No.” “When will you be?” “Never.”

“Wait, I have something for you.” “Is it a knife?”

“I’m going to cancel this trip if you don’t get it together, you’re all terrible people.”

“Why do none of the grown adult men in this room know how to tie a tie?”

“Can you come pick me up?” “It’s 1:30 in the morning, where are you?” “Downtown, I found a cat.”

“How did you fall asleep with the lights on?”

“I don’t know shit about fuck.”

“The era of country music a person listens to can tell you a lot.” “I listen to a lot of Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson.” “Stoner country, I respect it.”

“You know a lot of Taylor Swift lyrics for someone who hates Taylor Swift.” “Don’t talk to me.”